


Contemplation

by Knightblade



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Love, M/M, Reflection, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Words!!, possible crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblade/pseuds/Knightblade
Summary: Aaron gets a palpable revelation of what Spencer sees.





	Contemplation

God, he is stunning. He doesn’t even know it. Not in that artificial vanity manner. Genuine humility. He takes care of himself. Takes pride in his appearance, because he is secure, not from ego. Self-awareness. He knows who and what he is. What he is capable of. He is not ashamed of his body. He has worked hard to maintain his God-given blessings. Not for adulation, for necessity and enjoyment. The results of his nature, he is an inherently physical man.

His eyes are what first caught me. Deep, dark, captivating. His eyes are the epitome of his soul’s window. No matter what he is doing you can see what he is feeling in his eyes. If you only take the time to look. He has a mask. It is austere, sever, and intimidating. Most people don’t look beyond that, by his own design. To their loss. Everyone sees his attractiveness, notices his body. These same people ignore what is set in their hands, they only witness the person he portrays. Shame on them, he deserves better.

Dark hair held expertly in place by a product that smells faintly like Cedar and Sandalwood. It complements his aftershave. The spices mingle with his core scent to perfection. After a long day whether by the elements, frustrated fingers, or simply the life span of hair gel, his cowlick tumbles onto his forehead. That small act of gravity somehow makes him less untouchable.

His hands are expressive. A public barometer of his tension. Moreso than his eyes. He has trained himself to show nothing. His eyes stay focused, his back straight, his legs firmly planted. His hands betray him. There is a difference between looking and seeing. If you don’t observe him, you wouldn’t notice it. He fidgets. It’s subtle. His pinkie tapping against his thigh. Pointer tracing the outer seam of his trousers. Fingers rolling into a fist, opening slowly like a flower. It’s rhythmic like he is paying attention, but he isn’t. I know it’s unconscious. When he catches himself he nonchalantly slides his hands into his pockets.

He dresses as his station demands. Sleek, crisp, powerful. Bespoke suits that dramatically display his stature. Highlight his height, accentuate his physique. He wears them like a knight wears chainmail. Protective armour against the worst of the worst. He is not hiding, he is shining bright and chivalrous. A paragon of virtue, noble and honourable. A knight of old. A certifiable gentleman.

He is just as imposing in blue jeans and a jumper. Though he looks less, edgy he is still just as captivating. He is a commanding presence. There is no relaxed affectation involved. He does not act any differently dressed down. That solid presence is still seemingly effortless. Though the fabrics may change, the man does not. He is blessedly consistent. He is himself, and that is breathtaking. 

His son is his universe. Everything he does is for his son. He is a wonderful father. Attentive without the helicopter, loving without any smothering. He is simply there at every possible moment. Even with everything they have gone through, everything they have lost, they are strong. The youth is becoming a brilliant man. He is staggered by the boy. Daily.

His work is a part of him. Not in the obsessed get more, go higher way. In the what he does is a direct extension of the man at his core. He is Bravery Fidelity and Integrity personified. He gives every iota of himself to every case. He is a mentor. He is a leader. He is a paragon. He is tenderness and patience with the victims. He is justice to those he hunts.

Even those that claim to know him best think he is unreachable, emotionally constipated, jaded. A control freak. They would be mistaken. Yes, he is precise, structured, diligent, exacting, but those are not bad traits in his profession. Those traits are what help him be the agent and leader he is. They don’t define him, they are facets of a complex man. 

These same people, who I know love him, describe him in much different ways than I do. Some would say he is hard, I say he is solid. They would say he is driven, I know him as focused. A couple would say he’s aloof, I say confident. One would say he was undemonstrative, I say he is blindingly passionate. 

I know that is a stark gap in opinion. Some of that is because he keeps his personal and professional lives separate. That does not mean he is detached, far from it. He is guarded. He does not divulge easily, he is intensely private. He will express if asked. That is wherein the issue lies. They see the cool exterior and forget the man inside. It takes so little to get through his protective walls. With honest effort, genuine concern, compassionate understanding, he is as transparent as glass.

He is damaged. In all of his glorious perfection, he is infallibly human. He has been abused by those that should have nurtured. He has been attacked by those that he hunts. He has been stripped by one he trusted above all. Yet, he still believes in love, he still believes in forever. He still has faith.

He is cautious, allowing his emotions to mature. He takes his time, exploring, building, experiencing. He holds nothing back, gracing his intended with his truth. He is strength and vulnerability. He is iron and delicacy. He is intensity and tenderness. When his feelings coalesce, oh the promise. It is sublime. The gift is priceless. 

His touch is electric. Hands so familiar with violence glide softly like silk. Lips that can cut like a rapier, whisper feather-like against my flesh. A body ready for battle delivers pleasure so immeasurable I could weep. He is unquestionably dominant, though in the heat of passion he surrenders completely. It is devastating. 

He is my world. He is my heart. He is everything.

He loves me.

I am awed.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” shaking fingers folded the page into a tight square, that was deftly slid into the secret pocket of his wallet. 

“Come here Spencer.” his voice deep with emotion. Without hesitation, his nervous genius crossed the room to stand next to him. 

“Are you alright Aaron?” 

“I’m….” Aaron buried his face against Spencer’s hip.

“I was sitting at my desk. I turned and just by coincidence I caught a glimpse into your office. The light from the window had fallen so perfectly across you. You looked ethereal, and I was stricken. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, all I could see was you. I was flooded by everything I felt. It was the purest thing I had ever experienced. I wrote that because I had to purge that epiphany before I collapsed under the weight. I knew before that moment how much I loved you, but in that second it became tangible.” Spencer explained carding his fingers through his hair.

“It’s amazing. I don’t have words like that. I can’t put into words what you are to me.” Aaron looked at him everything he felt shone in his eyes.

“You tell me every day. I never doubt how you feel. Never question your devotion.” Spencer smiled a tear falling from his eye.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Aaron.”

“I am awed,” Aaron whispered, surging up to kiss the man he adored.

**Author's Note:**

> Proof that I can write less than five thousand words. (Though no one has asked)


End file.
